


encounter

by Spudato



Series: Great Weiss Shark AU [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Faunus!Weiss, Great Weiss Shark AU, Mentions of murder and mutilation, demonisation of fishermen, mild violence, nb!blake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 20:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11676330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spudato/pseuds/Spudato
Summary: On a remote island near the Vacuan coast, team RWBY undertake their first unsupervised assignment - to rid the area of an underwater Grimm. Of course, that's until Weiss discovers that the real threat sometimes comes from the ones you're meant to protect.





	encounter

**Author's Note:**

> More Great Weiss Shark! This one is pretty brutal, so if you were expecting something nice and fluffy to lighten up your day... well, uh, don't. This fic got inspired by one (1) line in 'enclosure' so if you saw this coming, buckle in.
> 
> WARNINGS FOR: mild violence, mentions of organised murder (!), mentions of mutilation (!!!), vomiting and gnarly sunburn. This whole fic is 5000 words of Weiss getting shit on, and I'm so sorry (but also... not at all...).

* * *

 

The waters around Vacuo have always been known for being a clear, rich sort of blue; the kind you see on holiday pamphlets and in movies, so perfect as to be unreal. They’re so clear, in fact, that when Weiss is below the waves she can see for miles around.

Needing to scout underwater is always a rare occasion, since most of the Grimm RWBY deal with are confined to land and air. Today, however, they’re on a remote Vacuan island that’s part of a scattered archipelago, and something’s been attacking boats in the small hours of the mornings. It’s been too elusive to spot from the beaches and cliffs, so naturally Weiss had taken the chance to strip down to her swimming gear and dive beneath the surface before Ruby could even ask her to take a look. She’d been eager to get her pale skin away from the brutal heat of the southern sun, and the water has always been a haven.

Now she’s gliding far beneath the surface, sticking close to the white sands that bloom and shift with the scuttling of crabs and skittering of fish, watching out for any sizeable shadows that boast too many teeth.

In all honesty, Weiss prefers freshwater over the sea, even if the ocean is much prettier to look at. Chlorine can make her gills sting something chronic, and saltwater like this makes her feel terribly dehydrated after even the quickest dip. Freshwater’s always treated her kinder, even if it has a tendency to hydrate her to the point that her bladder feels uncomfortably full for a whole day afterwards. She can’t deny the view though; weaving through kelp and watching the fluttering of colourful scales as fish dodge around her, the sunlight casting spotlights that makes the ocean floor glow.

Well, that’s until a cliff face appears and the sand drops away, the ocean opening up like a bottomless pit below. Even with low-light vision it’s hard to make out anything in the murky darkness, so Weiss’s gills flare before she begins to dive lower, arms and legs pumping out a steady rhythm and driving her downwards. She’s glad she doesn’t need to surface for air, because the bottom seems so very far away.

According to Ruby, the boats had never been too far off the coast when they’d been attacked, so Weiss reasons that their Grimm probably swims nearby. The underwater cliff provides plenty of ridges and caves for it to slink into, and a lot of sheer rock for bone plating to scrape across in the attempt. Hypothetically, it shouldn’t be hard to find evidence of Grimm activity.

It doesn’t take long to prove Weiss right; as she follows the cliff around she soon comes across a curving, chalky scar, like a mistaken stroke of paint. What’s worrying about it is the sheer scale of the thing, however - it’s maybe two hands wide at its thickest part. RWBY had already come to conclusion the culprit wasn’t likely to be a sea dragon, since those things were foolhardy day _and_ night and the few visual reports they had spoke of something far stealthier. Weiss thinks it’s the same sort of scale, though, and they’ll likely have to lure it closer to land if they want to stand a fighting chance. Right now, even the _idea_ of sharing an ocean with this Grimm makes Weiss’s skin crawl, but she’s not finished with her search, not yet. If she can find a shard of bone or black of ichor, maybe they’ll be able to gauge how old this Grimm might be, or how hurt it’s been. Reports said it’d been fended off with harpoons and spears a handful of times before, and Grimm bleed even if it’s more like tar than blood. Besides, anything that isn’t a disadvantage is only an advantage, as Professor Port would say.

So Weiss swims farther out, keeping an eye peeled for any signs of tracks, any specks of white or black mixed in with the sand. The cliff is huge and curving and forms a deep underwater bay, and Weiss finds herself watching the cracks in the rock for glowing eyes and dark scales as she follows it along. There’s a handful more scars, bright and jagged, but other than that there’s very little to see. It’s not clear exactly where the Grimm likes to hide in the daylight hours, so after a fair while Weiss decides to call it quits. The team’ll be waiting for her on the beach, after all, and eager to hear her findings. So, she sinks low enough that her feet touch the fine sand, a cloud puffing up around her legs, and she kicks off, rising towards the glittering surface.

It takes a while, given how deep she’s sunk, and her mind starts to wander as her body falls into a familiar tempo. There’s plenty of ways to bait a Grimm, but this one is especially cautious, it seems. She’s not surprised; this is their first real solo assignment as third years, and Port likes to pick Grimm that are a little harder to get to grips with so they can really exercise their skills. At least, that’s what CFVY had said when reminiscing about their first assignment - a subterranean Grimm nest deep in the heart of a cave network so porous it’d been like exploring a sponge.

Weiss is just really,  _really_ glad RWBY wound up with a mission with a lot more open-water.

The glass surface of the water is coming ever closer, but Weiss gets distracted when the seal-like silhouette of a boat crosses overhead. The people of the island are having to take full advantage of broad daylight as to not bring the ire of the Grimm, so she’s not surprised by it, not really. What _does_ surprise is her is when there’s a splash of water just above her head, and Weiss finds herself dragged downward by a heavy, rough-woven net.

Truth be told, this isn’t the first time Weiss has gotten stuck in a snarl of wires and netting, embarrassingly enough. Sometimes they get abandoned or are left snagged on rocks, winding up tangled around her legs if she ventures too close. Other times she’s mistaken for a _really_ sizeable fish, getting dredged up in the middle of a catch, and since there was no net a second ago and now there _is_ , Weiss can safely assume it’s a case of the latter. Of course, that doesn’t stop it being kind of really scary to have thick twine wrapped around her limbs and ribs, leaving her struggling for escape as she’s heaved upwards.

“Caught a big one!” Someone’s shouting, voice muffled beneath the water, and a few more figures appear over the edge of the boat, grasping at the ropes. In one huge pull she breaks the surface, and Weiss yelps when her skull smacks against the hull, the lattice biting harsh lines into her skin when all her weight bears down. Really, her Aura should be up, but she’s mildly panicked and somewhere between getting caught like an oversized tuna and being hauled aboard, her brain blanked out and now she’s hurting. Desperate glances show she’s far from the beach - she’d swam out much farther than she’d thought - but that’s all she gets to see before she’s thrown onto the deck, body meeting solid wood with all the grace of a wet sack of flour.

Weiss’s head pounds with a dull ache that’s left her dazed, likely to blossom with a colourful bruise, and when one of the fishermen stands over her she just stares blankly towards him. In her mind there’s things she should say - _what do you think you’re doing_ , or _can you please get me out of this fucking net_ \- but nothing comes out of her mouth but water.

“That’s no fish,” a voice mutters to one side, disappointed. “That’s a damn person.”

Weiss is a little thankful that she’s not dealing with _complete_ morons, but the man above laughs harshly, the bright sun behind him obscuring him to a shadow. “A person? Nah, nah, this is a Faunus, see?”

The hard toe of a damp boot roughly pushes one of Weiss’s arms away from her ribs, baring her gills to the sun, and there’s a chorus of surprise. “Don’t see ones like this no more.”

Being blinded by the harsh sunlight and distracted by a low-key throb of discomfort makes it hard to organise her thoughts, but eventually Weiss works her jaw long enough for words to form. “Let me go.”

A pause, and the man tilts his head. “Huh. They talk, too.”

The cant of his voice rubs Weiss all the wrong ways, and she tries to push herself off the deck, only for the netting to tighten and force her down again. It’s wrapped tightly around her legs and around the width of her shoulders, and despite the claustrophobia that’s settling in, anger bubbles and makes her snarl, showing off all her sharp white teeth.

“My name is- my name is Weiss Schnee, and I’m a Huntress from Beacon Academy. I’m not a fish, and I really... I _really_ don’t appreciate being stuck in a fucking _net_ , thank _you_. So if you don’t mind-” Kicking her legs out makes the fisherman stumble back half a step, even though it does nothing to help free her. “Get me out of here!”

Despite the growl to her voice, her head throbs again and makes her swallow down a groan of pain. Her fingers catch on the unforgiving twine, trying to snap it with brute force, but all that achieves is angry red marks on her hands instead.

“I’m sorry, but did you say you’re a _Schnee_?”

The cold tread of a boot pushes Weiss onto her back, and another fisherman looms overhead. The light is hitting him directly, so Weiss can at least make out his tanned face and sandy blond hair - not that it helps matters. “Last I checked, the Schnee family ain’t no Faunus.”

His insinuation makes her gut boil, and the fact she’s being stepped on by a backwater islander with half a trout for a brain doesn’t make it much better. “There’s a team of Huntresses on the island right now! Ask them if you don’t believe me.”

Another quiet descends onto the boat, a near-silence if not for the creaking of the hull and lapping of the waves. The fishermen all share looks, and Weiss is waiting for an apology when the boot on her shoulder grinds against her skin, heavy weight pressing down on her as he leans forwards to better look her in the eye. The light gets blocked out behind his head, and for the first time Weiss can see a leathery face pulling into a gap-filled grin, eyes a glacier blue even colder than her own.

“Maybe, maybe not. But Huntresses go missin’ in these parts all the time, don’t they, boys?” There’s a round of cackles and agreement, and Weiss cranes her head to spot another two men stood near the bow, arms crossed and smiles cruel. Again, the boot presses down, the ropes digging in, and she hisses. “Besides, you’re worth a lot to the right people on these islands. Well, _most_ of you is.”

He winks, and Weiss’s heart falters for a fraction of a second before starting to hammer against her ribs, pulsing in her ears. She knows what he means. If she stays on this boat, she’s going to die.

It’s a known phenomenon that the rarer a breed of Faunus, the more likely it is for them to go missing without much of a sound. Then, later, the only thing recovered of them will be _parts_ , found on the shelves of shamans and healers of obscure faiths. Blake had shown Weiss a few articles on the matter a few months prior, translating a handful from a curving Menagerian script into Vale’s local tongue, but Weiss hadn’t needed a translation for the photos. Bound loops of hair, jars of teeth and blood, bundles of bones tied together like twigs… it’d made her feel ill at the time, but thinking about it happening to her is like being thrown into the Atlasian sea at the height of winter. She wants to cry for help but her jaw clamps shut like a vice, so instead she starts to fight her way from the net, twisting and turning until the boot that holds her down gets knocked aside. She’s not even paying heed to the bite of the twine any more, kicking and biting and scratching, forcing herself onto her hands and knees to try and make a leap for the water-

Fingernails dig into Weiss’s flesh as someone drags her onto her feet, but then there’s the click of a door latch and she’s shoved backwards, feet bound together so she can’t even hope to save herself as she falls into a dark stairwell. The last thing Weiss sees is four smiling faces and a sea-blue sky, and then the back of her head meets the edge of a step and the world goes black.

 

* * *

 

When consciousness returns it’s wading through a swamp, but the first thing that makes itself obvious to Weiss is her head. It feels like someone’s been jumping on it with concrete boots, leaving it split down the middle like a melon. The second is that her entire back _burns_ , set on fire and left to smoulder, and the heat from the sun is enough to summon tears.

The last thing Weiss notices is that, once she opens her eyes, the world is upside down.

The fishermen are a few paces away along the wooden docks, discussing something in a tightly huddled group with their backs turned. It means she’s free to blearily glance about, even though she feels like she’s half a step from passing out again, and she’s so dehydrated that the inside of her mouth is like sandpaper. The sun’s behind her so she can’t tell the hour, but it’s painfully hot, air dry and hardly a breeze to be felt. She’s bound, too; her arms pressed tight to her sides and feet together, and the cold metal of a hook slipped between her ankles suspends her. A look to her left and right proves to be a mistake, because there’s two small sharks hanging off a thick wooden beam just like she is, dead and bleeding onto the swollen wood of the docks. The stink of fish is so strong that bile runs into her mouth, and when her skulls throbs particularly hard she flinches, rattling the chain she’s hanging off and bringing the attention of the group.

It’s the man with the blue eyes who approaches, though Weiss is finding it astonishingly difficult to reconcile the fact she’s upside down and he’s not on the ceiling. Feeling like she’s on death’s door isn’t helping.

“Looks like our catch of the day ain’t quite swimming with the fishes yet! How’s it hangin’ sharkbait?”

As like the meeting of a wave against an outcropping of stone, anger froths in the pit of Weiss’s stomach. It’s not because she’s been hung up like an animal, or even that she’s probably going to die. What she can’t _bear_ is the use of a nickname that only Weiss’s friends have ever used. For three short years, it’s become a term of endearment that means the world to her, often accompanied by a ruffle of hair or kiss on the forehead, laughed out alongside a fistbump or spine-breaking hug. The way he says it makes it oily, sticking to the inside of her throat, and in that moment Weiss wants to fight, to struggle, to shout for help, to do _anything_ to escape. But she’s just dry-mouthed and nauseous, and trying to talk just forces her to spit acid. A wayward breeze should have been a blessing, but instead it just induces another wave of vertigo as the chain sways to and fro. There’s nothing she can do.

“Well, kid,” he continues in the wake of her silence. “These friends of yours haven’t shown up so I guess they ain’t missing you yet. We, however, have got some folk on their way who’re real interested in puttin’ a price to you, so don’t try making for open waters yet, huh?” He laughs, loud and brash, causing a stab of pain that ricochets around Weiss’s head, and with it comes a wave of dizziness so strong that Weiss has to close her eyes, just for a second.

When she opens them again, it’s sunset. The docks are bathed in a golden orange light, the sky below turning a deeper blue on the horizon, but that’s all Weiss sees before a face appears hardly an inch from hers.

If her throat wasn’t drier than the depths of the Vacuan deserts, maybe she would’ve screamed. Instead, her body jerks in fright and sets the chain swinging wildly. Well, that’s until it’s stopped with two arms around her body, and the face pulls away just long enough for Weiss to make out silver eyes and dark hair and-

“Weiss!” Ruby cries, cupping Weiss’s face in her hands. “Weiss, oh, oh _man_ , Weiss, we thought you were _dead_ -”

Something is sawing near her elbows, pulling the rope taut that’s trapping her arms- well, that’s until it comes loose with a jerk, and her arms fall to beside her head, lifeless. Blake stoops low to come into her vision too, ears covered by their ribbon but hair mussed and knotted, the way it gets when they’re stressed and wind up running their hands through it too often. Their eyes - a gold to match the silver - don’t hide their emotion as well as their face does, but that’s how Blake always is. Keeping it bottled until everyone’s safe.

“Weiss, we’re going to get you down, okay? You’re in a bad way and it’s gonna hurt, but Ruby and I are here, okay? Just hang on for me, just for a minute.”

Weiss isn’t going to complain, not when her whole body just _hurts_. Her head isn’t any better than it was when she last awoke, and she feels so sick she’s quite ready to vomit up a kidney. When Blake stands, gingerly touching her back, their hand is hot against her sensitive skin and she bites her own tongue to hide a moan of pain. Ruby’s brows are knit so tightly together it looks headache-inducing, and she takes one of Weiss’s hands in her own, squeezing tight.

“We’re here, Weiss! You’re gonna be okay, it’ll all be-” The squeeze lessens, then tightens up again, Ruby’s blunt fingernails a gentle bite. “We looked for you all day! We went up and down the whole coast looking for you, and we even took a boat out and we thought the Grimm got you but you’re here and we’re here and-”

“Ruby,” Blake calls, interrupting the stream of panicked reassurance. They’re tugging at the rope around her ankles experimentally, but Weiss flinches at a sting when it rubs on raw skin. There’s an frantic apology whispered, but then, “Ruby, I can’t get Weiss down on my own. You’ll have to help me lift her up.”

Half of Weiss’s mind goes _good thing I’m the lightest_ but the other half remembers somebody else would be better suited for this. Naturally, that’s when there’s a _thud thud thud_ coming from along the docks, and Yang skids into view at the far end, slipping on the wood. Her golden hair reflects the dying sunlight like a beacon, though there’s no smile to match - instead, as she approaches, Weiss sees how pale she is, eyes wide and horrified.

“Weiss- _maidens_ , you’re awake-” Yang dives to her knees, taking Ruby’s place in an instant. “I’m so glad we found you.”

Even though it feels like there isn’t any moisture in Weiss’s body, tears still blur her vision, sending the world into a mess of orange and yellow. “G-get me down. Please.”

Forcing the words out is like coughing up nails, but Blake touches Weiss’s ribs gently, their voice low and fast. “We are, we’re getting you down, we just have to- who is _that_?”

Yang turns to look over one shoulder, and approaching the dock with halting steps is the blue-eyed fisherman again, looking between the Huntresses with a dawning horror on his face. Yang tenses, and then stands, and Weiss can already tell by the few heavy steps she takes that she’s in half a mind to pin him to the ground and tear a leg off.

“Hey, buddy,” she starts, voice smoky. “Mind telling me who put my buddy here on a hook like a piece of fuckin’ meat?”

Weiss almost cries out when Blake and Ruby put their hands to her shoulders and calves, lifting her until the ropes around her ankles slacken. She doesn’t catch his reply, if there’s any at all, but once more there’s a _thud thud thud_ of Yang’s boots, sprinting down the dock, and Weiss doesn’t miss her next words, screamed as they are.

“Did you try to kill my _friend you son of a bitch-!?”_

It takes both her teammates to lower Weiss down onto the ground, and she grits her teeth all the while, muscles stiff and skin alight. The blood rushes down from her head and the world spins, and when Blake tries to sit her up she has to shove them away, barely giving them warning when she vomits up what little she can. In the distance there’s a familiar _blam_ of Yang’s gauntlets, and Weiss wonders if somebody’s died before there’s a second heave of her stomach. Someone shouts her name, but Weiss can’t really hear it over the rush of blood in her ears, the beat of the tide.

The ground tilts and Weiss’s body feels eerily cold, and she’s out again.

 

* * *

 

When Weiss wakes up again, she really doesn’t want to. Better the darkness of passing out than the pain of being awake and aware, but the feeling doesn’t last long. That’s mostly because she’s in bed - hers, to be precise, at the inn Port had booked for their assignment - and also because Blake’s here, sat at the end of the bed. The room hasn’t changed since the morning, even though there’s a bunch of bloodied cloth in the wastebasket that hadn’t been there before. The cream-painted walls and beech floorboards are homey, but they feel much less welcoming after Weiss’s day. There’s only one light on in the room - a small Dust-powered lamp on the bedside table - and the door is shut tight, though not locked. There’s no light coming through the thin curtains that cover the window, so Weiss figures it’s night, and she’s glad for it. Her back feels like it’s radiating heat and she’s had enough sun for a while, thank you very kindly.

Blake’s silent, and Weiss almost calls for them when they start talking. One hand is up to their ear, and Weiss spots the white plastic of their Scroll pressed up to their cheek.

“Yeah- yes, we’ll be right here. We’ll keep an eye on her, and- yeah. Yes. It’s fine, it’s nobody’s... of course. I know. See you soon. Thanks.”

A short pause, and then Blake lowers the Scroll, the screen lighting up to cast a bluish glow onto their face. Their shoulders sag down, and without their signature white trenchcoat Weiss can see the bunches of muscles across their back, the tension on the verge of snapping. A sharp _clack_ signals that Blake’s closed the Scroll up, and then they run a hand between the two ears that poke from wild, dark curls, a sigh deflating their whole body.

“... Blake,” Weiss finally calls, even though there’s a pervasive tang of acid coating the inside of her mouth. Still, it’s worth the momentary discomfort when Blake turns around so quickly she can almost hear the crick in their neck. They look her over once, then twice, as if they can’t really be sure she spoke at all, and then there’s a blur of shadow and Blake’s kneeling beside her.

“ _Weiss_ ,” they whisper, and when Weiss raises a hand in a weak little wave they clasp it tight, larger palms meaning it nearly disappears in their grip. “Are you- do you... how are you feeling?”

Licking her lips does nothing to alleviate the dryness, but Weiss does spot a tall glass of water on the bedside table, just behind Blake’s head. “Like shit.”

It barely takes a second before Blake follows her line of sight, and then _ohs_ quietly. They help Weiss sit up - not a lot, because her whole body disagrees with any sort of motion at all - and then they offer her the glass with gentle hands. She takes small sips, as much as she wants to down the whole thing and ask for seconds, because she doesn’t trust her stomach to even keep water down. It washes down the bile and for the first time in hours her tongue doesn’t feel like a stone, and Weiss counts that as a small blessing.

Once half the glass is drained and it’s set back onto the table, Blake takes her hand again, lacing their fingers together tightly.  Already Weiss is feeling a thousand times better, even if the sheets of the bed feel impossibly abrasive on her skin. “Who were you calling?”

Blake exhales hard through their nose, thumb idly tracing circles on the back of Weiss’s hand. “Goodwitch. Our assignment is over. We’re going home.”

Weiss blinks, and once the words register properly she sits upright in an instant. It’s a mistake because all her muscles feel like they’ve been stretched out too far, whilst the skin of her back is taut and raw, and she grits her teeth as she falls back in a slump. Blake yelps her name, a hand coming up to press onto her shoulder, but Weiss is a little distracted by the protest of a sudden headache. She touches the back of her head tenderly, only to find a thick wad of bandage over where she’d landed on the stairs.

It must have been much worse than she’d thought, at the time. “It’s over?”

Once Blake’s happy that she’s not going to try that again they settle at her side once more, nodding with furrowed brows. “Yeah. We, uh… we called Port to ask what we should do, because we saw the Grimm whilst we were bringing you here, but you kept, just, waking up long enough to vomit and then Yang said you probably had heatstroke because you must’ve…  you must’ve been in the sun all _day_.”

There’s a breath, long and shaky, and Blake’s hands quake. “So we called Port, and he said- he cancelled the assignment. Said it was too dangerous, especially if those guys… anyway, they’re sending an airship. We’ll be home tomorrow.”

There’s a really long moment of silence, and Blake’s whole body starts quivering before there’s a drip of a tear. Then another, and another. “We thought you were dead. There was blood everywhere, and we couldn’t... Ruby was freaking out and so was I and Yang was so scared and-” The hand on Weiss’s tightens until it almost hurts. “She nearly killed him. The fisherman on the docks, I don’t know if you remember, but. He told us everything. They were gonna sell to you to some-  _fucking_ witch doctor and they were gonna-”

It’s just like Blake to keep everything in until they can’t physically hold it any longer, but Weiss hates just laying here, not able to do _anything_ when Blake finally starts to cry for real.

They’re a quiet crier, all things considered. Their sobs are breathy and they cover their eyes with one arm as if they can hide it away. Weiss keeps squeezing their palm, a silent _I’m here_ , but it doesn’t stop Blake from spitting their next words, vitriol lacing every syllable. “They were going to kill you! We couldn’t even find you, and we were searching and searching and you were just _gone_ ! And then Ruby saw you, saw you hanging with those fucking _sharks_ like you were already dead and we- and I... and I…”

“Blake.” Weiss tries to sound commanding, in the way Ruby does when the going gets really tough, but her voice cracks and it falls rather flat. It’s enough to make Blake look at her, though, and that’s what matters. “I’ll be okay. It’s not your fault.”

There’s a wet sniffle, and Blake shakes their head. “I should’ve known. I’ve seen enough of this shit before, I should’ve…”

“Should’ve what?” Weiss is gentle about asking, but she needs to make a point. “What could you have possibly done? I was miles away.”

They don’t say anything, instead scrubbing a hand over their face to wipe away the tracks left on their cheeks. Weiss knows she’s right - all they could’ve hoped to do was find her sooner. “I know you would have found me, even if I was already on my way to some godforsaken cave in the middle of nowhere.” She says it with enough conviction that Blake’s eyes change, softening as their brow relaxes, but Weiss knows it’s true. “No matter what.”

She’s a little ashamed to admit it, but she’d forgotten that herself. All the years spent with no-one watching out for her, expected to rely on her own two hands to get anything done, aren’t so easily forgotten. Left to die with nobody to help her, nobody to offer a kindness in her final few hours. Weiss had thought she’d outgrown that mentality by now, but she’d forgotten all about her team the moment it seemed there was no escape. Her team, who gave her a hand up even when she was being unbearably prickly. Her _team_ , who offered her a shoulder to lean on when the world became too much to bear. The fact she’d doubted them even for a fraction of a moment leaves her with a thorn in her heart, but Blake’s growing smiles soothes it right away. It’s a small and fragile thing, but it makes her whole chest tighten with affection.

“I’ll never lose you. Not to anything.”

A warm feeling settles through the whole of her body with those words, and it’s worth the pain to try and lean forwards, to loosen her hand from Blake’s grip to cup the curve of their cheek. It’s worth it all for them to come closer, amber eyes like melted caramel and a touch to the back of Weiss’s neck like the wings of a butterfly. Maybe a few days from now the horror will really set in, leaving Weiss jolting awake from nightmares and seeing faceless figures in the corner of her eye. Right now, though, Blake’s kiss is salty and bittersweet, and it tastes just like the ocean.

For now, she’s safe again.


End file.
